


Our roles have been reversed

by destielsuperwholockbandhoorah



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:01:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsuperwholockbandhoorah/pseuds/destielsuperwholockbandhoorah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael escapes the cage and continues his mission, with a new anger towards Dean and Castiel especially. They must attempt to resist him, and may discover something along the way.<br/>(based off a fanart I found and wanted to write about)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our roles have been reversed

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a comic by the Tumblr user linneart.   
> http://linneart.tumblr.com/post/78588127656  
> That's the page that his links to the five separate pages of the comic.  
> Enjoy. :)

Castiel felt it like a jolt through his entire being when it happened. He had frozen immediately, horrorstruck by what he knew it must have been. It called to him. Before he had even a moment to reconsider his actions, Castiel flew to where the source of what he had felt hit him.

It was in an old building, an abandoned, nearly empty thing somewhere in the western half of the United States. Castiel had bigger things to think about than where he was. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was-

“Dean!” Castiel felt the dread pooling in his stomach as he watched the familiar figure turn around, hands clasped behind his back and a very _un_ familiar expression on his face.

“Guess again brother,” Dean’s voice said, entirely too calm, flat except for an undertone of smugness that ignited a flame of rage in Castiel.

“Michael,” Castiel said, and it was not a question, just a simple resigned statement of fact.

Michael inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement and walked a little closer to where Cas had landed and still stood. He walked with a self-assured gait that looked strange to see Dean’s body doing. That thought sent a sliver of pain into Cas’s heart anew, but he shoved it aside. A problem for another day.

His brother came closer still, and Castiel could feel the waves of grace and power coming off the archangel, fierce and righteous. He squinted his eyes and lifted his chin in a small measure of defiance. He could never win out over his much more powerful brother, of course, and he knew that no matter what, he could never even begin to hurt him when Dean was Michael’s vessel.

Michael came to stand directly in front of Castiel and stopped, looking him up and down with a hint of contempt on his face.

“What do you want Michael?” Castiel demanded, glaring at his brother, forcing himself to look past the outer face.

He didn’t answer at first, just smoothed out his suit and began to walk a slow circle around Castiel.

“You kept me at bay for a long time Castiel. But that cage wasn’t designed for me. You always knew it was a matter of time before I got out.” He finished the first circuit of Castiel and continued. Castiel meanwhile, began to tremble slightly with rage. He knew he could do nothing here.

“And you never told them, did you Castiel.” Michael made a sound that Castiel assumed had supposed to have been a laugh. But he had never heard someone truly laugh like that. Even in Dean’s voice… Dean’s laugh was supposed to be rich and warm and deep, not the biting, cold sound that Michael forced into being behind Castiel’s back.

“You never told your precious little humans, Castiel,” Michael simpered, “and now look, here I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Get out of him Michael.” Castiel finally spoke, barely controlling his voice and making an effort to lash out with what he knew would be a fruitless surge of power. He wanted to do it anyways though. He didn’t want to sit there and not fight back. He was through with those days.

“Or what?” Michael scoffed, coming to stand in front of Castiel again. There was a quick flicker of silver and Castiel saw that he now held a blade. The famed sword of Michael. Castiel resisted the urge to say something that would probably really get him in trouble here. “I can feel your power. Compared to me, you are nothing. You are insignificant and weak and useless. And of course,” here Michael made a slightly disgusted face, “you would never hurt _him._ Would you Castiel.”

He seemed to see something in Castiel’s face that egged him on. He rubbed the side of his blade. “I’ve got to say I’m impressed with you Castiel.”

“Michael?” this wasn’t something he expected Michael to say and it made him suspicious.

“It’s too bad,” Michael continued, ignoring Castiel’s words but sending him a sidelong glance as he turned away, one full of contempt that stung even more coming from Dean’s features. “He was in love with you.”

Every scrap of rage Castiel had been feeling dropped away for an instant, replaced by… something unidentifiable. His eyes widened and his fists unclenched. He brought his hands up and stared at them, “He- he loves me?” his eyes flickered up to his brother again, and he reached out with his grace, aching, hoping desperately for any sign that he had been lying. But he didn’t know what he found, and that made all of this so much worse, that it could be true. It was one thing to love a human, knowing he could never have him and taking solace in the fact that he wasn’t wanted anyways. It was something completely else to see the face, the eyes, he loved staring at him without a shred of caring in them, knowing that behind that the real man was there, and he loved him back.

A taunting smile on his face, Michael watched Castiel’s reaction. “What’s the matter Castiel,” he mocked, you didn’t know?” the smile vanished replaced by derision. “It’s like a fucking soap opera in here.”

Castiel had no answer. He took a step back and felt a wall right behind him. Unexpectedly, his anger returned, with a sort of determination and an idea that may have been spun out nothing but a hopeless fantasy. “You will lose! Dean will see he was wrong and take control.”

He tried not to flinch at the glare Michael shot him, which was made of cold and empty scorn. Castiel was reminded once again of how most angels were, emotionless machines, following orders of a long absent father and thinking themselves above all of His creations. They were all so ignorant, as he had once been.

Seeing no reaction from Castiel other than a hardening of his gaze. Michael turned to him once again, raising his arms to his sides and flaring his grace for a blinding moment. In the shadows of light, Castiel could see his wings, large and powerful, filling the room past its physical capacity. They looked black against the light, and Castiel realized something with a shock. Michael now had the wings of a fallen angel, black like Lucifer’s been at first, black like Castiel’s own wings were now. Instead of sympathy, or even pity, this made Castiel even angrier. He knew what this was about now, this was revenge. This was Michael taking out his anger on Castiel. And on Dean.

“LOOK AT ME!” Michael yelled as the flash of grace faded. He came at Castiel. “I am the most powerful being in the universe.” He grabbed Castiel’s neck, held him up with his back pinned to the wall, power coursing through them both. He spoke, voice dangerously quiet, spitting the words into Castiel’s face. “You actually think a dire thing like love will win!?” in his anger, his wings were still visible, feathers ruffling up and held around the two of them like live and suffocating shadows, grim reminders of why they were here like this now.

“The same thing won’t happen as it did with Sam and Lucifer.” If Michael had been, human, Castiel thought he would have rolled his eyes. But no, he was very far from human. He pushed Castiel harder into the wall, as if for emphasis, Cas thought he heard something crack behind him. His words were still quiet, but less venomous, he sounded like he pitied Castiel. “Not this time,” Michael sighed, as if lamenting his brother’s ignorance.

Castiel held to his glare. He clung to the hope that Dean loved him, that he could get out of this, like he had with everything before. _I believe in you._ He thought, wishing Dean could hear him. Out loud, he replied, “He’s strong. You’ve been witness to that.”

With a disappointed frown, Michael released Castiel, letting him drop to the ground. He made a condescending noise and turned away, clasping his hands behind his back and rolling his shoulders a little. His wings were gone now, fading out as his rage cooled into something else.

Castiel stayed on the floor, more spent from the contact than he cared to admit. His hand held against his heart and he closed his eyes, listening with pain in him t Michael’s words.

“You’ve been around the humans too long, Castiel,” Michael admonished. “You know how weak they are.”

Not trusting his voice, Castiel settled for glaring at the back of Michael’s head. Like this, he could almost pretend it wasn’t Michael, but Dean. The thought made his expression slip for a moment, but he pulled it back together before his brother could sense anything.

“I know everything in this tiny, insignificant brain.” Michael assumed a mournful expression. “Every moment you two shared that he kept locked away.” He turned a little to look at Castiel, and small victorious smile crept onto his face. “Every touch he tried to forget.”

Castiel coughed, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. He had never cried before. He didn’t want to give Michael the satisfaction. “Stop it,” he said weakly, not able to look at Dean right then, even if it wasn’t him saying those things. He couldn’t bear it.

A pleased note seeping into his voice, Michael continued his thought, as if Castiel had said nothing. “Every time you let him down that he just can’t _quite_ let go of.”

Castiel dropped his hands and stared up at Michael, pain and anger and frustration twisting his voice. “STOP IT!” it was no longer a request, but a plea, he was begging like a prisoner crying out desperately for the torture to end. In many ways, he was exactly that.

“He’s weak Castiel, _POISON_. And you know it,” Michael scoffed, still not deigning to turn towards his brother.

Castiel took his head in his hands, covering his ears, in a pointless effort to block out the words. But they kept coming.

“How does it feel?” the archangel taunted, “knowing you were his demise?”

“Lucifer is gone.” Castiel broke out, the pain evident in his voice. “What is the point of all this?”

Michael folded his arms with a sigh. “You don’t know anything, do you.” It was rhetorical, more of a statement. With the air of explaining something to a child, Michael finally turned to face Castiel again, spreading his arms out, his eyebrows raising and the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “I have my true vessel! Now I can finally do what I was created to do.”

This confused Castiel. What was there for Michael to do? Lucifer was locked up, heaven was stagnant, and there was no hope of finding their father. “You’re insane,” he said, partly to himself, wondering.

“Ah-ah.” Michael held up a finger. “Not insane. A _strategist_.”

His tone then made it clear that the conversation was over. He was through toying with Castiel and read for his revenge. “Now. Any last words?” he twirled his blade in his hands and walked slowly toward Castiel a haughty expression on his face.

Summoning some of his last dregs of defiance, Castiel glared up at his brother for what would most likely be the last time, and replied, thinking only of Dean, “Bite me.” When he died, he wanted to have his thoughts filled with Dean.

Michael raised an eyebrow but made no comment. He crouched down in front of Castiel, kneeling next to his outstretched legs. The tip of the knife picked at his shirt, and Michael seemed to be taking one last long look at the brother he was bent over.

A benevolent look came into his eyes as he readjusted his grip on the blade and centered it over Castiel’s heart. “Goodbye, brother.”

With what he was sure was his last look, Castiel stared into those green eyes. He imagined he saw Dean looking back at him, imagined a smile spreading across his freckled cheeks, lighting up his eyes and chasing away the world’s darkness for a few moments. He smiled slightly, finally letting the first tears of his millennia long existence fall down his cheeks.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Had he imagined the flicker of horror in his eyes? He must have. Either way, Michael didn’t move. The knife stayed pricking into the flesh over Castiel’s heart, drawing blood but moving no deeper. Michael seemed frozen, save for his expression. There was a mixture of emotions there, flickering from shock to pain to determination to rage.

Castiel watched with bated breath, as motionless as Dean’s body above him. He never broke eye contact, and watched the expression settle momentarily.

“Cas?” this time Dean’s voice sounded like Dean, the warmth in it again, only slightly marred by the panic and fear there.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, feeling a relief wash over him and the coldness begin to seep out of his limbs.

Suddenly Dean stumbled back, running backwards a few steps and holding his head.

“NO!” he shouted out, the anger not belonging to him.

Castiel watched, wondering what he should do, and slowly got to his feet once again, taking a step towards who he was not sure was Dean or Michael.

“Cas, stay back!” he turned away, fists clenched at his sides and trembling slightly. “stop doing this to him,” he yelled out.

So, a little bit Dean and a little bit Michael. Cas didn’t care if what he did next was smart or not. If it didn’t work, he didn’t care if Michael killed him. He strode forward and caught Dean’s arm. He felt it stiffen under the contact, but only gripped tighter, and even spun Dean around to face him.

He found confusion in the gaze that met his, shared by both entities in the body. Neither, as well as Castiel, knew exactly what was going on, or why.

“Dean,” Castiel said, staring as deeply as he could, trying to find Dean underneath the angelic layer. He felt like he could see him there, struggling, pushing against Michael. “Dean listen to me.”

The face scowled, but that was as much control as Michael had at the moment. He shook slightly under Castiel’s hands but didn’t move or strike out or pull away. Dean ignored him on the surface, looking past that, to Dean on the inside.

“Dean,” Castiel repeated once more, “I know you’re in there and I know you can hear me.” He let his voice beg. “I know you are strong. I know you can do it. But you have to fight him Dean, you understand me?”

Suddenly Castiel was flat on his back, a livid face hovering above his own, and there was an angel blade making a second stain of blood creep out onto his shirt.

“Stop that Castiel. Stop it right now.” Michael spoke through his teeth and his voice was shaking with rage and frustration. The blade trembled as well. It seemed he wasn’t fully in control.

Castiel’s face remained impassive, as if he was still standing facing Dean. He continued to speak only to Dean.

“Fight him Dean. Lucifer couldn’t beat Sam in the end, and he can’t beat you.” He reached up with his arm that wasn’t trapped under Michael, who remained seething above him, held back only by the resistance of his vessel. Castiel put his hand on Dean’s face, cupping his cheek and watching him. He smiled, love in his eyes. “Come on Dean.”

The knife thudded against Castiel’s chest as the hand holding it released it, and it rolled off onto the floor harmlessly, the clatter echoing in the room.

Castiel’s voice was soft and his eyes were sad. With a memory of a rather similar situation long ago, with the roles reversed, Cas said, just keeping his voice from cracking, “Please Dean. Please, I need you to do this. _I need_ _you._ ”

Tears formed at the corners of Dean’s eyes and fell onto Castiel’s face. He wiped them away with his thumb and sat up. Dean came off of him bonelessly, crumpling into a heap that Castiel pulled onto his lap. He curled Dean’s body up, tucking his legs in and holding Dean’s head against his heart.

“Push him out, Dean,” Cas whispered, holding Dean tightly. He felt the body in his arms stiffen, and leaned away as Dean arched back, a stream of silver-white light pouring from his mouth and disappearing from the room. Castiel felt Michael’s anger leave, and finally his strength betrayed him. He slumped forward, leaning on Dean in his lap. His cheeks were still wet, and he buried his face in Dean’s hair. It was warm and dry and surprisingly comforting.

He heaved a monstrous sigh. Dean shifted against him, hand gripping at Castiel’s arm. “Cas…”

“It’s okay Dean. We’ll be okay.” Cas replied.

He realized they were both in very bad shape, and with a faint sliver of remaining power, flew them both home, to the bunker.

Needless to say, received a massive shock as his brother and the blood angel appeared in the living room. All he could get out of them was a faint, “It’s okay,” and a smile from Cas before he passed out, following Dean’s example from moments before.

 

A groan escaped Castiel as he opened his eyes. He hut everywhere, and it was the kind of hurting that grace couldn’t heal. It was deep emotional and physical tiredness, soreness. Why did he feel this way? What-?

Then it hit him, and he sat up quickly, ignoring the rush and pain in his head. He looked around.

“Dean?”

There was a muffled surprised noise from his left, and Cas looked over to see a sleepy Dean raising his head from where it appeared to have been resting on his arms on the bed that Castiel was laying in. Dean’s bed, he realized.

“Wha-?” Cas said, extremely confused.

“Cas,” Dean looked so relieved and happy, that Cas smiled, not even knowing why.

“How-?” it seemed Cas was still not able of regular speech.

Dean got up, “Thank god you’re awake. It’s been days.” he stood next to Cas, holding his hands like he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with hem, like he wanted to do something that he didn’t think he was supposed to.

“What happened Dean?” Castiel asked, finally forming a sentence. He pulled his feet in and hugged his knees. He realized he was not in his normal clothes, but instead in a pair of soft pants and a t shirt. He felt oddly vulnerable like this.

Dean rubbed his face, like he was scrubbing away the exhaustion and worry, and looked at Cas with a genuine smile that warmed his heart. “Well after that whole… Michael… thing. Apparently you brought me back here. We were both in pretty bad shape, it scared the shit out of Sam,” he chuckled a little. “But after a day or so I woke up. Still feeling pretty crappy, but I’ll live. You on the other hand,” Dean’s forehead creased with worry, “it’s been a week Cas. I- we didn’t know if you were gonna be alright.”

“I’m fine,” Cas said on reflex, but at Dean’s scowl, reevaluated. “I hurt all over, but as you said, ‘I’ll live.’”

Some of the tension seemed to drain from Dean. “Well, that’s good. But, uh, do you think you could explain what happened? Cause it’s all a bit muddled and blurry.” He coughed a little and looked away. Castiel might have imagined the embarrassment on his face.

“Well, when you said yes to Michael,” Cas began, suddenly finding his anger at Dean, despite everything. But he was interrupted.

“I didn’t say yes to him!” Dean exclaimed, “how could you think I would ever do some dick move like that?”

“You didn’t say yes?” Castiel was confused. “How is that possible?”

Dean looked back determinedly. “I don’t know, but whatever it was, I didn’t consent to it.”

“That is extremely worrying.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean fell back into a chair by the bad with a tired sigh.

They were silent a few moments, then Castiel decided to keep going. “Well after… that... I came, and I spoke to Michael. I think something was wrong with him, but I don’t know how or why. But he was going to kill me and you… overpowered him. Like Sam did with Lucifer. You cast him out and he left.”

“Right,” answered Dean, seeming to be taking it all in. “And so you, why are you so beat up?”

“Michael did something to me, fed off my grace or something, I don’t know exactly. But then I- You don’t remember what happened at all?”

Pain crossed Dean’s face, replaced by consternation and then by a quiet little realization. “How did you do that Cas?”

Cas smiled softly, sadly. He didn’t know for sure whether Michael had been lying or not. But either way, he was done hiding himself from Dean. Maybe it was partially his exhausted state, but he had no reservations as he said the words he had been holding in for what felt like his entire life, though he knew that to be impossible.

“I did it because I love you, Dean Winchester. I have for so long and I always will. I love you, and I need you, and I couldn’t let him take you.”

Dean looked shell shocked. “You- love me?”

“I do.”

There were a few moments of silence between them, not broken by even a breath and barely a heartbeat. Then Dean stood once again, stepping hesitantly towards the bed where Cas sat. He reached out a hand and put it on Castiel’s shoulder. Dean leaned forward and his warm forehead bumped lightly into Cas’s. They sat there for a moment, the moment held in a quiet balance. Then Dean spoke, four quiet words that made all the pain insignificant.

“I love you too.”

Castiel made a noise that was somewhere in between a happy laugh and a broken sob.

“I love you Cas,” Dean repeated, seeming relieved to finally be saying the words. His hand grabbed a little tighter at Cas’s shoulder and slid up a little so it cupped the back of his neck.

“Dean.”

It was all Cas could say right then, but it was enough. Dean moved forward the last couple of inches to kiss Cas, the tears neither of them had noticed shedding making their lips taste salty.

Cas took his hands from his lap to wrap them around Dean’s shoulders, to pull him closer.

The kiss deepened and they remained there for a little while, kissing the tears away and smiling like there was no problems in there world.

After a little while, they broke apart, Dean sat on the bed and held Castiel in his arms. It was enough just to be close to each other again, to be themselves with no one interfering or controlling them. Castiel was reminded of a phrase he had heard Dean use several times many years ago. Team free will. That was always the goal, wasn’t it? Free will. Whatever happened, they could always pull through together. He hugged Dean tighter and whispered the words once again, just because he could now.

“I love you Dean.”

A kiss was pressed into his hair. He closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. There problems were far from over of course, but now they were a little less alone than they had been before.


End file.
